


and then we grabbed the sun

by Summer_Pond



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Injury Recovery, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Langst, M/M, Prompt Fic, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Pond/pseuds/Summer_Pond
Summary: Filling Ella28's request.Discovery of Elemental powers with established Shklance. Hurt Lance with two protective and fretting boyfriends. Set somewhere around S2.Lance lets his icicle powers loose while sustaining severe injuries. Cue Shiro and Keith breaking their calm composure for their wounded boyfriend.





	1. Icy Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This was a quick idea that I really loved reading about and wanted to try my writing skills at to create. Completely out of the blue, I am sorry for grammatical errors and such. Filling the prompt with plans of a smut scene at the end.
> 
>  

It was an ambush.

 

That was the last coherent thought Lance had before he flung himself into battle-mode. Relying on instincts, coupled with long and draining hours poured in training, being thrown to the ground by his boyfriends as they swept him off his feet (literally in this case – remembering how many times Lance had been slammed to the floor before being pinned down by a sweaty Keith or Shiro – which he wasn’t complaining about because _wow_ the view up was definitely something to whistle to), and critiquing his stance and reaction time to hand-to-hand combat. He wasn't a melee fighter, that was more Keith and Shiro's forte, but he had accepted that not in every scenario he could use his sharpshooting skills to get himself out of a tizzy which was why his two boyfriends had sternly invested time and energy in training and direct combat for future emergencies.

 

Except this wasn't a tizzy. A tizzy might be a one-on-one conflict between a few Galra soldiers in a confined ship. This was more than that. This was completely out of Voltron's experiences. All five of them were Lionless, with the battle plan consisting a stealth trek over marshy lands on foot. Allura had initially balked at the idea of such vulnerability but Shiro had argued that Green's stealth armor would send off the alarms that surrounded the city's boundaries that detected any and all large technological interferences, making their plans of a surprise attack rendered useless. So they had agreed as a team, that a journey across the slimy ponds would be the most advantageous: take out the Galra controls around the border of the city and then have the Castle Ship fly over and deposit their Lions. The plan was simple and had little leeway to go awry.

 

But they didn't take in accord that the Galra already knew of their presence and had planned in advance to counter their strategy. Their current predicament was a harsh reality to how the Galra were one step ahead, seemingly baiting them and trying to rid of the Pilots to get their claws on the Lions. It wasn't a pretty sight.

 

The initial reaction was to take down the shooting Galra soldiers that had been dropped down from flying battle ships, with Lance sniping as many as he could before the soldiers made touch down. But there were too many, just bombarding downwards to attack his teammates and Lance couldn't shoot them all. He couldn't. But he completely wanted to, watching as the soldiers engaged with his friends, with _his loved ones_. Each time one went down, two more would take the fallen comrade’s place. It was an almost impossible situation where Lance wasn't sure if there was an end to the onslaught of wave after wave of opponents. He was sure his armor had cracked around his left arm, having taken too much damage from close combat with the robotic soldiers, using his protective gear to soften every blow he received as he grappled with his enemies. There was too much noise, too much activity that he could only give a second’s attention to his allies who were holding against the barrage of attacks with similar difficulty. He spied darts of red as Keith swiftly took down the soldiers, with increasingly sluggish movements as the metallic bodies piled up and a fresh batch of Galra opponents stepped up. Lance briefly watched as Shiro and Hunk teamed up, back-to-back as they took down the marching combatants, flashes of yellow and purple sparks as their bayard were used. Pidge’s lithe form dodging shots, trying to sweep the shooters from their feet with her bayard slowed their reaction time and made them stumble. But it wasn’t close to enough fire-power needed.

 

They were losing.

 

The gunk from the marshy ground had dirtied their clean white parts of their armor, everyone’s movements were beginning to slow, including Lances’. Communication between the group and the Castle Ship had been severed, leaving them blindly trying to coordinate everyone’s movements through hand gestures that could easily be missed from the frantic attempts to dodge shots and fatal swipes. Lance could feel dread pooling in his stomach, it wasn’t right. His friends, his lovers, _his second family_ were being backed into a corner and he couldn’t do anything. A sharp pain on his left broke him out of his suffocating thoughts, and he swore as he turned his head to see the damage done. Something heavy threw itself onto his uninjured side, making him crash into the muddy ground. He wasn’t given any notice as his back hit the ground, and a _piercing_ pain stabbed itself in his shoulder, this time grabbing a pained scream from his lips. His scream had concerned yells from his teammates, he could hear the crescendo of “ _Lance_!” as he bit his bottom lip from the hit.

 

 _Fuck._ That had broken through his armor and into his flesh. The area targeted was beginning to spurt blood, he could see the red rivets staining his torso as he twisted his body to avoid a weapon aimed at his throat.

 

 _Fuck_. That had sent another jolt of pain. Where was his bayard? He craned his neck and saw it covered in green stains of moss and brown dirt, just inches away. He stretched his hands out, almost wrapping his fingers around the weapon. Almost. Almost…

 

And a metallic boot kicked his gun away, the only thing between his life and protection from the cold, unnerving movements of the robotic soldiers.

_No. No. No No No No No._

 

Something slammed its weight on his fingers, crushing the bones with the armor over layered. He couldn’t stop the distressing noise he made as he felt the bones in his finger shatter. _Fuck_. Was his voice usually this hoarse?

 

It wasn’t fair. He shook watching as a spear was wretched up and pushed downwards onto his ribs, breaking the protection wrapped around his torso. He screamed again, _he couldn’t help it,_ the pain was unimaginable. It drew raspy breaths as he felt more blood escape the confines of his flesh, tainting the ground with muted colors of deep red and around his fractured armor. And he could hear his teammates desperate cries. He could hear the roars of fury as Shiro and Keith ripped through the barricade of Galra soldiers, yelling expletives at their opponents and repeating Lance’s name like a mantra. They called him, his two partners with such passionate emotion in their voices, with hellfire blazing in their wake as they stormed through the crowd of soldiers with only one goal in mind. Protect Lance.

 

And Lance wanted to sob. Wanted to feel their protective embrace. Wanted the pain to _stop_. Just completely stop. But he also wanted to make the Galra pay. Pay for what they were causing to him, to his family, to the Universe. The thought spread itself through him, enveloping his mind and sparking a connection with _Blue_ who murmured in his head and opened his eyes and soul.      

 

Just as a final push of a weapon was directed over the area of his heart, Lance felt the power inside him welling up to explode in a blur of icicle bursts, glittering across the ground in a seconds, smothering the swampy mush into a layer of ice that froze the soldiers, crawling upwards to encase them in a thick cage of ice as they froze in their movements. The spread of ice grew exponentially, shooting upwards to create a massive ice dome that covered the area. Reaching high up and stopping any further drops of Galra soldiers, solving one problem. His outburst of power seemed to be enough for his teammates to break out their own abilities. He could feel the emanating powers as fire breathed onto his ice coffins and the Galra were destroyed in a heap of ash. He could feel the intense wind that blew in the dome, that lifted the flailing robots before being dropped and crashing from the height. He could sense the vines and the roots that exploded from the marshy land that drowned the remaining soldiers. He could feel the earth beneath shake and tremble as ruptures in the surface opened up and their enemies were swallowed up in dark caverns of dirt.

 

And he could feel his own power, vibrating inside of him. It sped out, in a massive form of a shrieking bird, made up of ice, it’s clear wings silently flapping as the surface glistened under the burning light. The bird flew up, passing through the dome erected, and pulsed icicle shards at the Galra ships, smashing and shredding the last of the Galra reinforcements. With a final burst, the bird flew to the city borders, dragging one wing through the outpost and decimating the guards and technology placed around the borders. The bird gave a sharp cry, tinkling in the air as the ice bird dissipated and the dome melted.

 

Was that enough? Lance couldn’t think, any attempt to focus send a jolting pain through his head. He felt blackness at the edges of his vision, creeping across color he saw as he laid his head on the uneven ground. Muted voices flooded his auditory senses, it was like he was underwater as the yells and tones were layered with confusion.

 

“Lance stay with us!”

 

“Lance don’t close your eyes _. Lance please_!”

 

Lance was so cold, and all he wanted to do was to sleep. So he closed his eyes and accepted the darkness that surrounded him.

 

His last thought centered around one thing. Was that Shiro and Keith’s voices?


	2. Howling Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Shiro thinks that one day he'll lose everyone he ever cares for. 
> 
> He hates it because at the back of his mind he knows it can happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waiting for that inspiration to hit me like...finally

Shiro is terrified.

 

There are many things to be terrified of, both on Earth and in Space. The latter which almost never fails to surprise the Black Lion’s Paladin with the possibilities of getting injured and banged up from setting the Universe free from Galra hold. It's part of the job criteria, getting bruised is expected through their continuous conflict between Galra soldiers and the Paladins.

 

But this.

 

This, having one of his teammates, one of his boyfriends in his arms, limbs limp and body motionless is like a _punch to his gut._ The breath is knocked out of him, as he covers his shaky fingers around Lance’s bloody body. There’s red painted over the Blue Paladin’s armor, oozing from punctures where the protective gear has been damaged from the skirmish. It’s a hideous sight, and he feels acid at the back of his throat in response to how stationary Lance is and just how Shiro can’t see the rise and fall of the younger man’s chest. And when Shiro gently touches his boyfriend’s cheek, Lance’s skin is _cold_. Freezing in fact.

 

The fear grips Shiro and he is terrified.

 

“Pidge, contact Allura to come down right now!” Shiro barks the order, his voice drenched in worry and he gives a look to his other lover, Keith who has a frightened expression. The Red Paladin’s posture is hunched, pupils blown-wide, teeth gritted so tightly that Shiro distantly thinks its unhealthy.  

 

Hunk is rushing towards them, and Shiro has to resist the temptation to lash out instinctively when the Yellow Paladin drapes a worried hand across Lance’s grimy forehead. It’s stupid and very almost dangerously toeing the line between concern and possessiveness that he has to take a breath to regain his thoughts.

 

Keith is silent. But his actions speak of his distress. Fists are clenched, steps are backed with anger, a combination of fuming and concern flits over Keith’s face in quick succession, fueled by his hatred of what the Galra Empire _has done, stands for and tried to do_ , contrasted by his fretting over Lance’s well-being. All of them hover around Lance’s still body, Allura gasps when she sees her Paladin injured and Coran holds a grim expression as he looks over the situation, holding Allura’s shaky body with caution and comfort.

 

____

 

 

It was a tense situation, Lance had to be carried in his arms, barely breathing _and so cold._ The Sharpshooter had saved them. All of them, and had created an opening. But at what price?

 

Lance's lips had started to turn blue and Shiro found himself losing his composure, just as he made sure to gently carry Lance into the Castle-Ship with the utmost care and prepared his injured boyfriend for the cryo-pod. Lance's armor had to be peeled off, but Shiro didn't realize just how severe the injuries were until the protective gear was removed. The thick coat of blood splattered on the damaged amour was removed to reveal deep incisions along Lance's shoulder and ribs. Pieces of Lance's flesh had been frayed, the skin cracked and riddled with cuts and blood. Blood everywhere. Lance almost looked like his body was falling apart, the meat of the Cuban man's flesh had been torn into by the actions of the Galra soldiers. Shiro felt sick.

 

Sick of this. Sick of the crimson wash on their bodies. Sick of the fear that one day he would wake up and be alone. Sick of the desperation to protect his lover's only to lose both of them. His nightmares had transformed, forcing fearful scenarios where he was too late. Too late to save Keith and Lance, and had to carry their motionless bodies in his arms. He would wake up from those nightmares, sweat drenching his quaking body only to be comforted by the two warm bodies surrounding him, groans of _'Shiro?_ ' murmuring through the dark compartment as Keith and Lance blearily would be roused awake to provide support for a shaken Shiro _. 'It wasn't real'_ they would whisper, pressing themselves against Shiro, warmth enveloping the older man until he found his breathing become even.

 

But this was the reality. This was a poignant example of what could happen. Shiro witnessed the carnage that had been unfolded against Lance, had heard the younger man's pained cries and screams over the screech of the battlefield. Had been filled with an intense desire to throw himself into the pack of Galra soldiers, self-preservation _be dammed_ , all just to reach Lance. He remembered seeing Keith flanking his right, sharing the same goal in mind as they worked in tandem to decimate the soldiers. When Lance had released an avalanche of icy spread across the battlefield, something awakened from the rest of the teammates. It ran on instincts, as the elements beckoned and bowed to the Paladins. Fire had burned the frozen soldiers, as Keith unleashed a blaze of searing heat across the ice-coffins Lance had created. Shiro had focused on the robots and had let the wind flow and blow around him, lifting up the metal soldiers like they weighed nothing and smashed them down from intense heights. He felt the damage from Hunk's earthquakes as the ground shook and wobbled to trip their enemies, he had seen how Pidge's power swallowed and drowned the soldiers, dirty green roots in thick cords wrapping around the confused soldiers to disappear underneath the marsh. There was no room to celebrate, not when one of their teammates had expressed the brunt of their new powers, summoning a large icicle bird that destroyed the very thing that got them into the mess in the first place.

 

It was his fault. He had been the one to argue their decision to go Lionless. It was his fault that the team were vulnerable. It was his fault that Lance got injured. If the cryo-pod wasn't enough, Lance's _blood_ was on his already tainted hands. Shiro had to step away. Away from Allura's pitied looks, away from Coran's gestures of good faith and assurance, away from Hunk's furrowed forehead and tight-lipped expression, away from Pidge's chewed bottom lip as the youngest Paladin fiddled around with her projects to take her mind off their healing teammate.

 

Shiro had to take responsibility. He couldn't be a leader of Voltron if he didn't reflect on what exactly went wrong. But a little part of himself wanted to avoid thinking about the event, wanted to blur the details, wanted to simply see Lance get better. He had walked past Lance's slowly healing pod every day, at least several times a day just peering into the glass and watching as Lance got knitted together by the alien technology. Every time the flesh began to be connected back to the body, Shiro felt a wave of relief that was closely followed by a truckload of guilt and sorrow. Regret seemed to be a constant emotion that seeped into everything he thought of, everything he did. Voltron had been put on hold until Lance recovered but that didn’t mean individual Lions couldn’t meet and save planets, Allura and Coran had watched with curiosity and bated breath on the slow healing process, unsure of when exactly the Blue Paladin would be okay. At least physically. Shiro wasn't sure how emotionally draining Lance's power had on the younger man and all he wanted was to know that Lance _was okay_.

 

Lying to himself seemed to work to a degree. He numbed himself to the daily tasks that seemed to have etched itself into their lives, even with Lance's absence.  He thought he was fine, that he could fake his stability. Except, Keith was hard to convince and always seemed to know just when things weren't quite right.

 

"Spar with me now." Keith had corned him one day, after he had stared at the same sentence of a report multiple times, blinking at the blurry scratches of letters and words.

 

"Fine." He had begrudgingly accepted, meeting Keith in the training room. 

 

"You need to vent out your anger and I know I'm the only person who can take it. So use your powers. I want to see you actually care."

 

"I do care.” He bluntly replied, gathering the thrum flowing through his veins, feeling the slaps of wind swirling around him, blocking every fireball Keith threw at Voltron's leader. They parried, throwing themselves at each other, blood pumping from the crackle of the conflict between wind and fire that burst into bouts of thick gusts of steam in the training room. Both of them were out of breath after the intense session, heart rate racing, adrenaline flowing through their veins.

 

He wanted to escape, avoid Keith’s flushed stare from exertion. But his lover was having none of that, slamming him onto the nearest wall, hot breaths fanning his similarly sweaty face.

 

“You need to stop beating yourself up.” Keith accused, eyes narrowed, the statement stabbing him to the core.

 

“I wasn’t-“

 

“Bullshit.” Keith bit back, hands gripping shoulders with fingers digging in, leaving creases into the cloth. “Don’t lie to me. I know you. I know that you feel responsible. It was the Galran Empire that did this. Not you. You didn’t hurt Lance. So stop thinking it was your fault. Lance would be pissed if he knew you were taking the blame.”

 

“You can’t simplify it like that.” He retorted, returning the glare Keith had directed towards the Black Paladin.

 

“ _Fucking watch me_.” Keith dropped to his knees, sliding his hands up across pants, shimmying the material until the trousers dropped to the smooth ground and swallowed Shiro’s thoughts in a messy spur of musk and sweat. 

 

_____

 

Lance’s pod opened after twenty quintants, five varga, twenty-eight dobosh and fourty-five ticks.

 

When the Blue Paladin awoke, he was met with the silence of the hollow hallways. His entire body felt numb, a combination of feeling refreshed and drained. As he caught his breath, Lance felt an overwhelming feeling of wanting to go back into the pod and ignore his failures.

 

The silence suffocated his sobs in the emptiness of the Castle-Ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles* next chapter is going to be bumping the rating up to explicit btw


End file.
